


I will survive

by Musicandjason



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 80's songs, M/M, drunk!jim, off key singing, they had a bad day, tumblr made me do it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicandjason/pseuds/Musicandjason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bastian…I thought you would never get home! I’ve been waiting sooo long. And yes, my day was wretched. But it’s much better now that you’re here!” Jim’s dark eyes fluttered shut and he ran his pale fingers along his dark blue tie. He wrenched recklessly at the knot until it pulled through and was in turn flung onto the floor. The light haired man was becoming concerned; all of this was very out of character for Jim.</p>
<p>“I was tailing that fucking stupid Politician like you asked me to. Which was a bust, by the way. That American asshole was useless! All he did was go to a creepy porno theatre to wank off. He has a tiny cock, just so you know.” Sebastian flopped down on the comfortable white leather chair and crossed his legs carefully. He had dark blue jeans on and uniform black socks on, encased in a non-descript pair of dress shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will survive

**Author's Note:**

> found this lovely "prompt" on tumblr.
> 
> super drunk!Jim singing 80s disco songs to Sebastian and being completely out of tune. WHILE USING A HAIRBRUSH (as a microphone) WITH HIS TIE TIED AROUND IT!!! :)
> 
> this is what happened. Even my fluff has angsty bits.

Jim had intended to only have one drink of the Macallan 55 that Mycroft Holmes had given him three years after Jim had helped him out of a rough spot in Germany. It had sat unopened since then, in whichever house he and Sebastian were staying it, waiting for the perfect storm of victory and regret; when he defeated Sherlock Holmes. But instead, it was popped open after a day that was lackluster and required something magical to end it off. Once he poured the deep amber liquid into a tumbler he knew there was no way he was getting away with just one drink. The bouquet of ginger, vanilla and other spices drifted over his pink lips and into his nostrils. And instantly he felt a certain intoxication. Not in the physical sense, but he swore he felt the tendrils of the delicious scent grab hold of his brain stem and rewire it for relaxation.

Jim had had a rough day, with nothing going quite as planned. Starting with his normally expertly crafted hazelnut latte and ending with what was supposed to be a simple meeting with one of his underlings from Kiev, it all went NOT according to plan. Not quite wrong, just not the way he had wanted it to go. The meeting had ended with Jim holding an ivory handled knife to the throat of said underling, ensuring that he correct amount of respect be shown in the future.

When Sebastian came into one of the many flats that the two men called home he was surprised to see his boss, his friend, his…something else sprawled out on the chaise with that stupid bottle of scotch that he took everywhere and never opened in his work clothes. Normally when Sebastian got home, Jim would be in his study hunched over a laptop or maybe two, wearing a tight fitting t-shirt, and comfortable lounge pants. But Jim was there, and the bottle was opened. He had managed to get his black Jack Irwin’s and his socks. Leaving his small, pale feet exposed. But his Westwood suit, black as night was being wrinkled under Jim’s light weight. Jim’s dry cleaner would have a stroke when Seb brought his washing in the next time. Just what the sniper needed.

“Jim? Bad day?” Sebastian was always tentative when he was sneaking up on his boss. The Glock that struck fear into the heart of England was never far away from him, and he didn’t like to be startled. Sebastian slipped off his soft brown leather jacket that had creases down the arms. His flat brown corduroy hat joined the jacket on the hook by the door. The sniper as it happened, had had a not quite right day as well. 

“Bastian…I thought you would never get home! I’ve been waiting sooo long. And yes, my day was wretched. But it’s much better now that you’re here!” Jim’s dark eyes fluttered shut and he ran his pale fingers along his dark blue tie. He wrenched recklessly at the knot until it pulled through and was in turn flung onto the floor. The light haired man was becoming concerned; all of this was very out of character for Jim.

“I was tailing that fucking stupid Politician like you asked me to. Which was a bust, by the way. That American asshole was useless! All he did was go to a creepy porno theatre to wank off. He has a tiny cock, just so you know.” Sebastian flopped down on the comfortable white leather chair and crossed his legs carefully. He had dark blue jeans on and uniform black socks on, encased in a non-descript pair of dress shoes.

“Oh, good then. Can I have a hug?” Jim’s eyes stayed closed and he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. It was not uncommon for him to be less clothed, but he was definitely acting strangely. Once the ivory white Reiss shirt was unbuttoned the smaller man pulled it off his body and stood unsteadily. He barely missed the extravagant bottle of scotch and tumbler as he opened his arms wide in Sebastien’s direction.

“Boss, maybe you should head to bed. It’s nearly 11, and you seem to have had quite a bit to drink. And we have that meeting tomorrow morning with the Russians…” Sebastian stood up, levelling his bright blue eyes at the smaller man, trying to decide how far he could push his luck that night. It was very rare that Jim lost control of his body like this, and although it was only ever around Sebastian, it had been a long time since it had happened. Jim didn’t look mad at him, in fact, he looked positively peaceful.

“Dance with me!” It was not a question, nor a demand, but a request without the option for decline. Jim had continued to hold out his arms, palms up and the sniper continued to just stare at him. They occasionally fooled around; actually got goofy and laughed like the two of them didn’t run half the criminal world, but normally that ended with bruises and not enough lube. Sometimes blood if they were feeling very silly. But never dancing.

“We don’t dance, Jim. I shoot people for a living. You tell me who to shoot. But we don’t dance.” The sniper furrowed his eyebrows, turned and left the room. He headed for his room, but could hear bare feet falling on the wood floor behind him. When he walked into the opulent spare bedroom that he slept in when Jim wasn’t being friendly, or kind he didn’t bother closing the door. Instead, he just flopped down on the king sized bed covered with a quilt that someone’s Grandmother had made and he covered his eyes with his muscular arm.

“Attttt first I was afraid, I wassssssssss petrified…” Jim’s off key singing bounced off the carefully papered walls and suddenly Sebastian knew it was going to be a long night. Sebastian’s arm muffled an annoyed groan. He hated when Jim sang. For all the things that the Consulting Criminal was adept at, carrying a tune was not one of them.

“Kept thinking that I could neveeerrrrrrrrrr live without youuuuuuuu by my side…And I spent so many nights…” the normally calm Irishman got up, and what he saw when he did made him crack a smile and laugh out loud in uncharacteristic vigor. Jim was holding Sebastian’s hairbrush tightly in his left hand, using it as a makeshift microphone. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, and he looked positively beautiful.

“I’ll make you a deal James. Ill dance with you, if you promise to stop singing.” Moran walked closer to the man, all of the stress and frustration from his shit day melting away as his large hands rested of Jim’s bare shoulders. Jim’s skin felt like it was on fire, and Sebastian was mostly sure it was because he had been drinking, and not because Sebastian always felt like he was on fire when he touched Jim.

“Anything for you, Tiger.” Jim put the hairbrush back down on the dressing table and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s clothed torso. Jim rested his head on Sebastian’s chest in the most intimate of gestures. The taller man’s arms tightened around him, and he gently ran his fingers across Jim’s back.

They stood there for a long time, until Sebastian felt Jim go slightly slack in his arms, with his muscles relaxing, but his arms not unlinking from around Sebastian. The lighter haired man knew that Jim had passed out. He smiled and picked Jim up, and Jim responded by wrapping his legs around Sebastian’s waist, pulling them flush against each other. “let’s go to bed.”


End file.
